Corridors of Power
by krysa io
Summary: Must you be blind, to not see? Deaf, to not hear? Mute, to not scream? Dedicated to alenachan, one of my favorite authoresses


Must you be blind, to not see?  
Deaf, to not hear?  
Mute, to not scream?  
…………….

We spoke of conquest. We spoke of destruction. We spoke of boredom. And he told me how he was finding life painful, of his interminable languor, and of his feeling of insatiable emptiness. As I looked at him the ground opened beneath my feet and I felt my spirit disintegrating.

The lassitude that fills his soul and makes him see the world askew, where does it come from?

Elsewhere, I might have tried to do something about it, but I am far from my source of strength. I no longer have the courage for those long battles that mutilate my soul. His wounds are too deep. His dormant, controlled passion threatens my being.

It is madness to believe that bodies could banish loneliness, that pleasure alone could give birth to a fertile language.

………………

She wants to remember everything since the present is too strong and makes her head spin. All she trusts is her memory. Today could be an illusion. It hurts to live from one moment to the next.

She must remember so as not to feel the emptiness. She looks for some shreds of the past. Memory will lead her to tomorrow and beyond. The present is far too short. It is only meant to knit together the hours.

She remembers the words she uttered with a sob in her throat. 'You betrayed me.'

He looked at her and replied, 'Betrayal is another matter.'

She remembered his departure. The plane taking off on a humid night. Then she had flown off, gently, slowly, back to the tower. Directly. She simply flew on, with her eyes fixed straight ahead. Never looking back.

He returned later on, but they never broached the subject again.

……………………

She feels somewhat like an animal. She lives by her instincts and can feel what others are only capable of thinking. She exists by desire although she can feel it leaving her. It seems that their urges are different, that their instincts no longer coincide. Sometimes she wants him, but the moment is not right. At other times he wants her, but her mind is on other things.

Her condition worries her. She no longer feels anything. Her thoughts become elusive. She feels dazed. She loses things. She breaks glass.

This is not normal. She wonders whether she has not invented it all, whether or not she has gone mad. A dangerous game, a mortal knowledge. Is this all a wicked dream? Juggling with her mind is like playing with fire, the same as taunting the gods who have nothing to do with it.

Yet she is in one of those moods again which she cannot control. She watches the world through the window. She feels removed, whatever she does. There is nothing she can do about it. She has to let it pass. She knows how futile her efforts are. Animated conversation, calculated smiles, and then SNAP! – she loses it.

She feels helpless, imprisoned in this closed space. She knows that she is looking at the void at her feet. She knows that she ought not to, that there are many other reasons for leaving, that it is coming from her mind, not her body.

Why not share? Belong? There is no shortage of struggles. There is no shortage of meaning!

………………………..

Sometimes, love is meaningless. Anger. Pity. The torment of answering questions.

There is no smoke without fire. If you find ashes, it must be that something is burnt.

Love sometimes burns hotter than the pits of hell. It can destroy and deface the earth.

……………….

When a man gives so much of his strength and soul that the woman is filled with awe by this deed, then beauty will have knelt and paid tribute to the couple lying down in the dimly lit room.

Is it possible to allow bodies to speak, to let them speak their own language, which surpasses all the frontiers of silence? How would he have transmitted such desire, such love?

………………….

Particles of wind were singing and, as at the time of the primal whirlwind, leaves were blown upwards into the sky. The word was complete. The word which is at once uttered and silent, both active and inactive. The one possessed only by the initiated.

The gush of wind. Growling from the steel in the heavens. The rain will be dry and hard. There will be nowhere to shelter. You will have to offer your face and uncover your head. The rite will take place in the heart of the earth and across the land. Debris will hurtle down the corridors of power.


End file.
